


Fragmented Doll

by Hammylams



Category: Higurashi no Naku Koro ni | Higurashi When They Cry
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Short, heavy spoilers but kinda disguised, if you know how things work out, sorta - Freeform, you should watch the original medium though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 16:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14109789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammylams/pseuds/Hammylams
Summary: A short piece on the consequences of a seemingly unimportant fragment.





	Fragmented Doll

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah mocks and life have made my last week kinda busy so here’s a small Higurashi fic. The series is one of my favourite of all time in terms of horror and general enjoyment.
> 
> Also not fully checked for SPAG (spelling, punctuation and grammar lol) so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

It was a mere doll that had caused so much tragedy. A shell of a being; lifeless, perfect porcelain, that attracted all eyes - women for its beauty and men for the valuable gift it would make for their female friend.

A child’s gift - both figuratively and literally. Abandoned in a corner of a small towns toy shop and forgotten; a fragment that had seemed to vanish from the world.

And yet, for her, it would always return.

Her first encounter with the damn thing had been during the third fragment. After two worlds where she spent five years trying to no avail to save the tragedy’s and watching her friends succumb to madness before her inevitable death had occurred.

In her previous life, the school had blown up after a hostage situation - it was nasty and gory and had broken her on a deeper level. She has never seen the Hinamizawa disaster and the terrified citizens of the small rural town that was destined for tragedy.

It was pathetic but while hope and strength had soared in her heart, she wished for change.

At that point, she had not known of the nurse or the photographer and their significance, only of her fated death and the odd pattern of her friends madness. And the god inside a little girls body that hoped with a heart as big as the moon for the world to be right.

It wouldn’t, but her innocence had perceived after only a short amount of the suffering she would face.

The world had played out like all others - she had learned of more of Satoshi’s deeds and had tried to help him and Satoko but after that failed, she clung to the other girl closely. She needed support through all this.

If only she knew more of the Shinozakis. Of Shion and Mion and their intertwining fates of murder, brutality and jealousy that drove so many tales of woe and pain. But she was another person - one not trapped by the confines of hopelessness that had set in after many years and worlds of the nightmares she had experienced.

The dull empty eyes of glass that mockingly sneered at her was not a suitable warning. The boy of who had so much potential was wrapped in something to big and miserable for him. A fate he would never fully understand.

He had won by fate and the cruel humour of last luck. He had given the doll to the girl who surrounded herself in all things cute - even though she had so much.

Perhaps it wasn’t he exchange, the doll was nothing special despite its flowing golden straw hair and its grand design dress. It was insignificant and the tomboy would hold little value for it.

It was the words, not the fragmented doll, but that was what always seemed to be important. The catalyst. No. The centrepiece. A symbol for the ignorant boys words:

“You don’t seem like the type either.”

It had meant to be a casual joke but really as she grew bitter and heated after the many worlds and tortured she had experienced, she found them to be harsh and brutal.

Even when she had complained or asked for the doll or tried all other forms of intervention, a similar comment would slip from the boys lips to the green haired girl. A simple notion and joke but it was a domino.

Sent harshly plummeting into many more in a sequence of tragedy and pain. The green haired sisters would later talk of this and the conversation would breed a child of jealousy and pain. A demon was born form the action and those words.

It was sad how much was out of her control and how small actions would change so much. But at the time she had been focussed on so much more. In the end, she didn’t notice their descending madness until she was confronted by the green haired devil.

Seeing the anger and evil within those eyes that could hold pleasure and happiness had made her realise what was going to happen. That had been the first time she was murdered while conscious. Days and days dragged on in that torture room before her life finally, mercifully gave out.

It had taken all her strength in many of the fragmented worlds to come to recover and move on. To find some redemption and peace. To regain love and care for her and, after many more fragments, to finally learn of the miracle.

But that was not for many thousands of endless loops of misery’s to come and at that moment, she had given up. That doll and those perpetual words would always madden her. They had broken her - almost made her give up.

Forced her to mature in a way no one should and yet the way she had been forced to. A psyche and personality that had been shattered and so thoroughly altered. It had taken too many fragments to restore even a slight bit and the horrors never truly went.

It wasn’t the demon eyes or endless streams of blood and viscera that would haunt her for many long nights - in her dreams, it was the soulless eyes of that fractured doll that kept her seeking alcohol to numb it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Gah this feels weird but I enjoyed the 20 minutes it took to write. Just needed to post something to lessen the stress of exams and life right now. Hope someone enjoyed it though.


End file.
